


leave all your love and your longing behind you

by kgathp



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Family, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Romance, more like friends-with-benefits to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-10-16 09:24:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17546999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kgathp/pseuds/kgathp
Summary: can't carry it with you if you want to survive..._____________________________________“I choose you, Kassandra,” Brasidas held her gaze unwavering. “I will always choose you.”Kassandra tried to fight back tears. No one had ever chosen her._____________________________________Kassandra sails across Greece.Kicking cultist ass and making drachmae; finding a family and learning to love again.Update 03/07/19Story on hiatus. Will return sometime in the future, I may do a rewrite. (I lost all my notes) Sorry about this, I will try to write again soon, when I have more free time.





	1. kleos

**Author's Note:**

> Title and first sentence of the summary are from the song Dog Days Are Over - Florence + the Machine  
> Chapter titles from the song Odyssey – The Flight, from the game soundtrack.
> 
> Some dialogue from Assassin's Creed Odyssey.
> 
> Comments are always welcome :) trying to improve my writing.  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odysseus leaves Troy to sail home, along the way he finds glory.  
> Kassandra leaves Ithaka for the same reason.  
> Only she finds a lot more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massively AU - canon divergent rewrite of AC Odyssey. With more Greek Gods and no Isu/Atlantis stuff. The Cult plotline will be a more prominent and deadly game of hide & seek; Alexios does not become Deimos either. Some artistic license has been used when it comes to the game canon and real-life history.

Kephallonia Island | Spring 431 BCE

 

 

Atop an enormous, stone statue of Zeus holding a lightning bolt, a golden eagle took flight. Circling the great god, the eagle swooped low and fast, soaring above the rocky forests and vineyards that dotted a small island. The golden eagle screeched as it glided over a beach and the little house that overlooked it. Perched up on the roof, a young woman with warm brown skin hummed softly as she caressed a broken spear. Her golden eyes held a deep sadness the belied her soft smile.

“Hey, shit-face! Get down here!”

Her reverie broken, Kassandra jumped down and dealt with the Cyclops’ thugs. _Malákas_ were always harassing her for money and starting fights they had no hope of winning. Sending the idiots off, she sat down heavily, holding her broken nose and tipping her head back. This shit happens every week, she sighed watching the golden eagle land on a post.

“Thanks for the warning.” She told Ikaros, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

A little girl skipped up the path. It seemed Phoibe had arrived too late with her warning. Helping herself to some olives, Phoibe asked Kassandra if Zeus would give her an eagle like Ikaros. Again. Kassandra stifled a groan, no matter how many times she told the girl, Phoibe still believed Zeus had sent Ikaros to Kassandra. Shaking her head to dispel the spiteful voice in her head whispering that the gods have never cared about her, Kassandra reassured Phoibe that she’d put in a good word for her with the lord of the skies. It made Phoibe happy and Kassandra only wanted to see that girl smile. Delivering her message from Markos at his new vineyard – and oh was Kassandra going to have words about that with him – Phoibe ran off happily, holding her toy eagle aloft as she imitated Ikaros. Kassandra watched her go fondly, the little wooden eagle was not the best craftsmanship, but Kassandra had labored over it, wanting to make something for the orphaned baby whose mother had helped her so much. Kassandra had always told Phoibe that her mother had made the toy for her, feeling bad that the girl had nothing to remember her parents by. Phoibe’s _mater_ had looked after Kassandra, taught her to cook and sew, taught her about herbs and plants – which ones healed or killed or tasted good – taught her so many things which Kassandra’s own _mater_ could not. Inhaling sharply at the thought of her mother, Kassandra stood up to get dressed, she had to go find a vineyard. 

* * *

Ktimene Beach. That’s where the Cyclops’ thugs had taken Phoibe. As she urged Phobos to go faster, Kassandra prayed to the gods that the little girl was alright. Phobos obeyed her commands and galloped faster. He was a very strong horse, sleek midnight black and powerful legs that moved swiftly and surely over the rocky ground. She wondered where Markos had got him from. From what he said, the horse had appeared one day in his stables. Kassandra was certain he was lying about that, he must have conned someone into giving the beast to him. Whatever his origins, Phobos was a fine horse, even though Ikaros did get jealous of him. When she came in view of the beach, Kassandra dismounted and crouched in the tall grass. Sneaking up behind the _malákas_ and breaking their necks, she moved closer to where Phoibe was tied up. The last thug stood guard over the girl and Kassandra crept up behind him, quickly thrusting her spear between his ribs. Shoving his crumbling body aside and she rushed to Phoibe, kneeling down and cutting her bonds before checking the girl for any injuries. “Are you all right?”

“It wasn’t so bad.” Phoibe shrugged. “Last time, they put a cloth in my mouth so I’d stop biting.

She was too young for this, Kassandra thought. Only five years old, she should be playing with her friends, not being snatched for ransom by thugs. Kassandra sighed, “Phoibe, just... be careful. You’re alone now, since - ”

“Since my parents died? I’m ok, I’ve got you! And you’ve got me and Markos.” Phoibe looked at her in earnest. “We’re your family, right?”

Kassandra’s eyes grew distant as she remembered her own family…

 

_Her pater training her with the spear. Her mater with baby Alexios, laughing as she called them to have dinner._

_“Kassandra. You are my greatest pride. Remember that. You will bring this family to glory.” Nikolaos had said, hand clamped tight on her shoulder, his gaze locked with hers._

_She had felt so happy then at that moment. To have her father’s love and pride was everything she ever wanted._

 

Kassandra shook away the memory. “Right,” she said, pushing down the grief.

Phoibe put her hands on her hips, laughing. “You worry too much.”

“And you worry too little.” Kassandra huffed, standing up. Between Markos and Phoibe, Kassandra had her hands full in trying to keep them both alive. Phoibe warned her of the bounty the Cyclops put on her head before saying bye, running off towards town. Great, she thought, as if her day couldn’t get any worse. Kassandra whistled to Phobos and set off to Sami to collect the money Duris owed. 

* * *

Listening with dawning horror as she realized just where Markos got the money for his stupid vineyard, Kassandra confronted the _maláka_. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Markos fumbled, trying to salvage the situation. “I long for the old days!” he told her. “Remember them? They were simple! You had nothing – young and alone –  and I had everything. And I gave you the world! Kephallonia – in the palm of your hand!”

Kassandra looked away…

 

_The storm had been terrible and the sea just as bad, Zeus and Poseidon must have been warring with each other. When Kassandra woke again she was on a beach with rough sand, above her, a mountain loomed large, casting shadow across the entire stretch of beach. Shivering, she pushed herself up on her elbows, her stomach rumbling with hunger as she tried to figure out where she was._

_Stumbling through the forest, arms full of dead branches, she came across a cave atop the mountain. Slipping inside, she looked around to make sure it was empty before starting a fire. The firelight illuminated the whole cave and she could see images painted on the walls. Pictures of various young men, training with weapons of all kinds. Strange, she thought. Why paint this in a cave, she wondered. She examined the walls more closely trying to make out the details. The young men, she could see the progression of the training of these boys to men, looked like they were students being taught by - is that right, she wondered - a centaur. Kassandra could only think of one centaur who was a famous teacher. Sitting back down near the fire, she resolved to stay in this cave, hopefully, they would not find her._

_On a night with a full moon, the seventh such night since she’d found the cave and made it her little hiding place, Kassandra ventured out in the moonlight. Descending down Mt. Pelion, she climbed over the boulders on a cliff that jutted into the bay. There, in a clearing, was a little altar to the gods that she’d found some months earlier. Kassandra visited it every full moon, to pray to Artemis for her divine protection. Tonight, however, the clearing was not empty as it always was. A man, looking to be only a couple of years older than her, knelt before the altar. Kassandra crept towards him while hiding in the bushes, trying to get closer to determine if he was one of them. Focused as she was on the stranger, Kassandra paid no mind as to where her feet were going. A twig snapped, the crack deafening in the silence, and Kassandra winced, halting her movements immediately._

_The man whirled around, “Who’s there? Come out!” He brandished a loaf of bread in his hand as though it were a sword._

_Kassandra stared hungrily at him. She hadn’t eaten bread in years. Slowly she rose, out of the bushes and stepping into the open, the moonlight making her skin look as blue as the Aegean below them._

_Eyes widening, the man lowered his hand. “Don’t see deer like you every day, eh?” he smiled, looking much more relaxed._

_Kassandra held her spear out in front of her body, her stance fierce. She would take no chances._

_“Hah.” The man matched her stance, bread in hand. “You hungry?” he asked offering it to her._

_Kassandra’s eyed it as she lowered her weapon and reached forward. He didn’t seem to be one of them and he was unarmed but for the bread. Before she could take it, the man reared back, holding the loaf aloft._

_“How about we make a deal? I do something for you,” he gave her the bread. “You do a few things for me… Everybody wins. Best offer you’re gonna get! Think about it!” he turned and started walking away._

_Kassandra looked at the bread in her hand, thinking quickly. “Wait...” she called, running after him. She would take a chance, just as she had months ago. Perhaps it would pay off better this time._

_Patting her shoulders as he laughed, the man introduced himself. “My name is Markos.” He was a jolly man, and although he looked relatively harmless, Kassandra could see his clever eyes._

_“I’m Kassandra,” she said, taking a big bite of the bread. It was warm and soft and so good. It tasted like home, something she thought she’d never experience again._

_“Nice to meet you, Kassandra. How old are you?” Markos asked warmly._

_Kassandra swallowed, “Twelve. Where are we going?” Markos was leading them down Mt. Pelion to the beach._

_“To my ship,” Markos pointed in the distance where a small merchant ship was docked._

 

“Kephallonia. Some gift.” Kassandra scoffed.

Markos continued to ramble on when Drucilla the bowyer walked up to them. The woman looked annoyed. Markos managed to slip away, telling Kassandra to meet him later, leaving her alone to clean up his mess. Again.

* * *

Having investigated the disappearance of Drucilla’s lumber shipment as well as sorting out the bandit trouble at Drogarati Cave and retrieving the spear of Kephalos from Melissani Cave, Kassandra made her way to Kausos. If what Phoibe said was true, Kassandra would have to tread carefully, the blood fever was not something to take lightly. She could still remember the last time it had plagued Kephallonia. It had been just after Kassandra had arrived on the island with Markos. Phoibe’s _mater_ had been one of the people taking care of the sick despite being heavily pregnant and she was one of the few people on the island who’d openly welcomed her. Kassandra had followed the woman around, helping with whatever tasks needed to be done, learning a great deal in the process. After Phoibe had been born, her mother had become ill with the fever herself. Severely ill. Her husband, Phoibe’s _pater_ , spent all his _drachmae_ on medicines for his wife and borrowed even more from the Cyclops. In the end, it had been all for nothing. Phoibe’s mother succumbed to the fever, her hand held tight in Kassandra’s own and her eyes fixed upon her daughter. Phoibe’s father, unable to pay back the Cyclops, had been beaten so badly by the thugs sent after him, he’d died in agony soon after. Within a few weeks of her birth, Phoibe had already been rendered an orphan, all alone in this world. Driven by both the unrestrained kindness showed to her by the mother, and the empathy she felt for the daughter’s plight, Kassandra took charge. With resolve straightening her shoulders and the responsibility she felt towards this newborn child pulling her out from the darkness clouding her mind, Kassandra held Phoibe in her arms and promised to look after her. And she would keep her promise.

Kausos was a devastation. With the town burnt to the ground and ash hanging heavily in the air, Kassandra felt as though she’s stepped into the Underworld, for the scene before her was colorless and lifeless. Cries for help alerted her to where a family was being forced to their knees, their hands bound as men with swords loomed over them. Kassandra recognized the girl with them, it was Kynna, Phoibe’s friend. This was not good. As the priests explained the situation to her, Kassandra fought down the rising despair. There was nothing she could do to help, despite what Phoibe wanted. The blood fever was dangerous and virulent. It would spread fast if left unchecked and it had no cure. If this family were to leave Kephallonia after having been exposed, countless others were at risk. The situation was out of her hands, she could not get involved. Trying to explain this to Phoibe who came up to her as she left the town, Kassandra felt like a monster. The lives of one family, of Phoibe’s friend, versus the lives of hundreds or thousands. How could Kassandra choose between them? What right did she have? Sighing, Kassandra escorted Phoibe back to the vineyard. She needed to see what new scheme Markos had cooked up to deal with the Cyclops.

* * *

 

Stealing the Cyclops’ obsidian eye was madness. Kassandra didn’t know who was the bigger fool, Markos for coming up with such a stupid plan, or her for going along with it. Really, how was this going to improve the situation? Sometimes Kassandra wondered if she’d have been better off in that cave on Mt. Pelion than having to deal with this shit. The eye in hand, Kassandra went back to the vineyard. Markos was waiting for her by the barn with news of the Cyclops’ new friends. Wonderful.  

Kassandra waited till sunset before making her way to the abandoned house. With Ikaros’ help, she took stock of the guards’ positions before taking them out one at a time. Swiftly and without a sound, she crept into the house to loot whatever she could find. Hopefully, she’d be able to pay back the Cyclops and still have enough left for herself. A strange snarling sound caught her attention and she looked down to see one of the men that she’d fought crawling towards her, a sword held shakily in his hand and blood oozing from the stab she’d given him. Behind him was another man, a wealthy one at that, judging by the quality of his _chiton_. He took the sword from the injured man and slit his throat, looking far too calm doing so.

“I normally have someone else do the field work,” he said, as he gingerly placed the bloodied sword on the ground. He looked up at her, “I don’t suppose you know how to get this stain out.”

Something about this newcomer made her hackles rise. Especially his voice, it was soft but it made her feel slimy. And his eyes, they were dark and glittering with hidden malice. This man was more dangerous than he looked. “There’ll be more blood if you step closer,” she warned. The stranger didn’t seem to fear her or feel much sympathy for the men who worked for him. The men she’d killed, she realized with a sinking feeling, turns out they were not with the Cyclops after all. “Why are you here?” she asked, there weren’t many outsiders who came to Kephallonia and the few who did were always looking for trouble.

“Indeed, I’m not from Kephallonia. I’m here because what I’m looking for is.” He walked past her, “If you’ll follow me, Kassandra.”

Kassandra stiffened, a chill running down her spine as though someone had walked over her grave. How did he know her name? Trying to calm herself, Kassandra turned around. Against her better judgment, she followed the stranger. He’d better talk fast, starting with how he knew her name, or she was going to put a lot more blood on that fancy _chiton_.

The man introduced himself as Elpenor of Kirrha. He told Kassandra of how his prized possession was stolen and brought to Ithaka and that he needed her to steal it back, promising a good reward for it. Kassandra listened to this very suspicious tale with a little bit of curious awe. Penelope’s shroud, that she’d woven and undone to stave off her suitors, chicanery worthy of Hermes or Athena herself. Such an item would be priceless if it were real. She agreed to get it, real or not, she needed answers and Elpenor would be more likely to provide them if she’d proven herself. Mind still whirling with questions, Kassandra took the rowboat out to Ithaka. 

* * *

 

In the five years Kassandra had lived on Kephallonia, she had never paid much attention to the island next to it. Ithaka, home of Odysseus, the wise hero from the stories, who struggled to return home after Troy. Oh, she had explored the island quite thoroughly, Odysseus’ palace and the Cave of the Nymphs, but there was not much else to be found there. Now though, the ruins of Odysseus’ palace was crawling with bandits. There were so many, Kassandra didn’t know if she could take them all on her own. As she debated upon her next course of action, Kassandra heard pained grunts. Peeking over the wall she was hiding behind, she saw a couple of the bandits surrounding a man on the ground, kicking and beating him. Not one to stand idle while others were being hurt, Kassandra vaulted over the wall, brandishing her sword and spear as she leapt at the bandits with a yell. Caught by surprise, she managed to take a few down before the others gathered their wits and started attacking her. As she whirled about, slashing and hacking at whoever came near, more and more bandits rushed her. By the gods she thought, her braid whipping her face as she twirled and darted around Odysseus’ palace in an elaborate and deadly dance, how many of these _malákas_ are there?!

Kassandra killed as many as she could but she was being overwhelmed. One of the bandits had the bright idea of lighting his arrows on fire before shooting at her. Cursing, Kassandra dodged one of the incoming fiery arrows, striking another bandit as she ducked. The arrow whizzed past her and into the shelf of pots on the wall behind her. A pot exploded, little pieces of flaming clay flying everywhere, another arrow causing the same reaction elsewhere. As the pots on the shelves that surrounded them all shattered under the rain of arrows, flames began to spread. Kassandra spun around, staring in horror at the bandit behind her, he’d been about to take her head off when the pot above him broke, drenching him in liquid. A flaming arrow hit his shoulder and the bandit immediately burst into flames, screaming in terror. Kassandra scrambled away from the burning man, shoving other bandits aside as she struggled to get away from the area. The stone ruins of Odysseus’ palace were dotted with similar pots and everywhere she looked the pots were being smashed, drenching the walls, the ground, the pillars and even them – the bandits and her – in a thick, dark liquid. Oil… Shit!

These stupid, idiotic, fucking _malákas_ !!! Kassandra cursed as she dodged the bandits and the spreading flames. Who starts a fire fight in a place full of oil?! I am so over this shit, she thought furiously, the heat growing more oppressive. I better not fucking die for this! Kassandra backed down the broken stairs, fielding off blows from the bandits who would just not give up – why the fuck is this happening to me – and continued to pursue her. “Elpenor better pay me double for this,” she snarled under her breath, parrying a blow. The fire was everywhere now, flames devouring the crumbling stone walls, as Kassandra found herself being backed into a corner. Oh no you don’t, she thought, preparing to leap over attackers and cut them down from behind. Before she could, the heavy oak doors that guarded the entrance to the inner courtyard burst open and a bandit sailed through them shrieking. He landed in a heap in front of Kassandra and as she moved to plunge her sword through his back, a spear flew after him and impaled him onto the ground. Kassandra looked up in surprise. Standing in the doorway, the raging flames flaring behind him as though the gates of Hades had opened to let him loose on earth, was the bandits’ former prisoner. Nonchalantly, the man strolled past the splintered doors, grabbing his spear by the end and wrenching it from the body it had been skewered in. Flushing hard and feeling very hot all of a sudden – it was the fire she told herself – Kassandra realized with a start that this newcomer was almost _completely naked_! His muscles rippling, the nearly naked man walked in front of her facing the bandits and held his spear aloft in a warrior’s stance.

“Come and get it.” He snarled before lunging.

Kassandra just about died.

Expertly maneuvering between his opponents while wielding his spear, the man dispatched the bandits cornering them with ease. Kassandra was staring unabashedly, he was an excellent fighter – strong, fast, intuitive (and very nice to look at, the little voice in her head supplied unhelpfully) – and he was in danger of being rammed through the side. Kassandra jumped into action and swiftly countered the blow before dealing a deadly strike. The man turned around and nodded his thanks. Together, Kassandra and the nearly naked man - what happened to his clothes - killed the rest of the bandits, working in tandem and playing off each others’ moves. Kassandra was impressed, this was the first time anyone had ever been able to keep up with her. Finally, all the bandits lay dead or burning. Kassandra searched the palace and the bodies, mindful of the fire, keeping any _drachmae_ she found. Aha, she spied Penelope's shroud peeking out of the bandit captain's armor, the silvery white of the cloth a stark contrast against sooty black armor. Thankfully it was not burned. Gently rolling it up and attaching it to her belt, she turned to face the still unclothed man. Well, he was wearing his _phoinikis_ that he'd managed to find from one of the bandits, but he was still nearly naked.

“Why are you not wearing any clothes?” she demanded before the man had a chance to open his mouth.

“Ah yes, about that,” he blushed. “I was doing some reconnaissance for a mission when they got the jump on me.” the man smiled ruefully. “Before I knew it, I'd been bound, gagged and stripped of my weapons and armor.”

“You were spying on Kephallonia?” Kassandra asked, incredulous. Whatever for, the island was not even involved in the war.

“Er not quite, I was in Phokis and they brought me here.” He motioned to her, “You fight like a Spartan.”

“As do you,” Kassandra smirked, her eyes glinting with a warning. Tread carefully here, you handsome naked man. You are a long way from Sparta.

“Oh, where are my manners.” Clasping his hands behind his back, he nodded at her, somehow managing to look dignified despite the fact that he was only wearing a loincloth and a red cloak. “Brasidas of Sparta.”

“Kassandra.” She jerked her head at the forest behind them where shouts could be heard, getting closer with every passing second. “We should go. I don’t want to find out if these bandits had any more friends.”

“I agree,” Brasidas said hurriedly. He gestured to the courtyard behind him where the fire was creeping ever closer to a wagon filled with dozens of pots of oil. “We need to leave now!”

With Brasidas’ help, Kassandra rowed back to Kephallonia in no time at all. Leaving the rowboat on the beach, she led him through the forest, avoiding the main roads and keeping an eye out for any watchers. “I’m taking you to my house, I have some spare armor you can borrow and those burns of yours need to be looked at.”

“My thanks, Kassandra.” Brasidas dutifully followed her, keeping a low profile, spear still in hand and his red cloak wrapped around him.

“I’m not entirely sure what possessed you to jump into the fire without any clothes on.” Kassandra laughed softly, turning her head back to look at him. Motioning to Brasidas to remain in the shadows, she sent Ikaros to scout the road to her home. There were two men idling among the ruins, Kassandra didn’t recognize them. Probably Elpenor's spies, well she was most certainly not going to have that. Swiftly she turned and ducked past a few rocks, breaking the spies’ necks and hiding their bodies in the bushes. The wolves would take care of them and if Elpenor wanted them back, then he shouldn't have sent them. She beckoned Brasidas to follow her.

“In truth, I’m not sure what I was thinking either.” Brasidas murmured softly as he watched Kassandra grab a few things from inside her house. “I remember seeing that you were in trouble and I could not have that, not after you saved me.” He followed Kassandra to a small alcove beneath the cliff her house was on. The beach stretched on either side, empty for miles, waves gently rolling up onto the shore. Inside the alcove itself, was a small pool of water, most likely from an underground spring. “I thought myself to be like Odysseus, although I’m not sure I looked as heroic as he did when he killed the suitors.” He chuckled, sitting down on the sand next to a fire Kassandra prepared.

“Hmm… I don’t know about that,” Kassandra peeked at him through her eyelashes as she removed her armor and stripped down to her tunic, the heat from the fire nothing compared to what she felt now. “I thought you looked just as dashing.”

Brasidas blushed hard and stammered out an awkward thanks. Kassandra threw back her head and laughed, feeling lighter than she’d been in a long while. She dipped a few rags in the spring water and handing some to Brasidas, they wiped the oil, sweat, and blood from their bodies. After cleaning herself, Kassandra crushed the medicinal herbs she'd brought into a paste. Taking the paste in hand, she began to apply it to Brasidas’ burns. He hissed in pain with a barely perceptible wince. “Sorry,” she whispered. Kassandra hadn’t been this close, this vulnerable, to anybody in years. The adrenaline rush from the fight was slowly fading, being replaced by a burning ache that was consuming her. Biting her lip she looked up and saw Brasidas gazing intently at her, his eyes reflecting the fire in her own. Inhaling deeply, he leaned his head forward. Kassandra matched him, her eyes sliding shut when their lips met. Maybe this night wasn’t such a disaster after all, she thought with a smile. 

* * *

Having seen Brasidas off – fully dressed – on a Spartan bireme that had been passing by on it's way to the war front, Kassandra walked into Sami the next morning, a spring in her step. Whistling merrily to herself, she made her way to the Temple of Zeus, where Elpenor was waiting for her in a small building next to it. Handing Penelope's shroud to him, she was surprised when he refused to take it.

“Well done. And now the shroud is yours.”

What? Why have her go to so much trouble to retrieve if he doesn’t want it in the end? Something strange was going and she wasn’t sure she liked it.

“I gained something more valuable today,” Elpenor said as he motioned to a servant to place a bag of money on the table before her. “For your troubles, _misthios_.”

Kassandra narrowed her eyes, he was playing games with her. Testing her. Resolving to keep her suspicions to herself until she could find out more about this Elpenor, she took the bag. Hmm… this was quite a lot of _drachmae_ . Kassandra took the contract the servant held out to her. Apparently, Elpenor wanted her to kill a general in Megaris, offering to pay her double for killing this ‘Wolf’. Shrugging, Kassandra accepted the contract, she had no loyalty to either side in the war. It meant leaving Kephallonia behind, something that made her nervous. The island had been her home for the past few years, a safe haven protecting her from the world, from her past, from them. As she walked through Sami, she bit her lip thinking of the last time she had left a home. 

 

_A distant scream echoed. “KASSANDRA…!” Her body aching, Kassandra pushed herself up._

_“A Spartan rises as soon as they’ve fallen.”_

_Her pater’s words ringing in her ears, Kassandra stumbled to her feet. She snatched up her broken spear, clenching it tightly in her fist as she ran blindly through the forest, soldiers at her back. Thunder crashed overhead, rain pouring down her face, hiding her tears. She reached the shore, where a small boat was waiting for her. Kassandra ran to it, pushing it into the water. As she was climbing in, something hit the back of her head and the world went black._

 

Shuddering, Kassandra tried to suppress the memories. She didn’t want to think about what had happened after that night. Thinking about the good time she’d had yesterday put her in a cheerful mood again. She very much hoped to meet Brasidas again. As for now, Kassandra needed to find a ship. 

* * *

The shipbuilder had pointed her to Kleptous Bay when she’d asked him about finding a ship. If Kassandra could take out the Cyclops and get his ship, she’d definitely be killing two birds with one stone. Hearing the muffled yells as she approached the village on the bay, Kassandra wondered which poor soul had got on the wrong side of the Cyclops today. Dispatching the many thugs that worked for the _maláka_ with ease and without drawing too much attention, Kassandra made her way to where the Cyclops was drowning a man in a pot.

“Let him go.” She drawled, throwing the obsidian eye in her hand and catching it.

The Cyclops held his prisoner down in the water. “No one on this island is allowed to say that word!” he shouted.

“Did he say Cyclops?” Kassandra rolled her eyes, “Did he hurt your feelings?” Honestly, you’d think he’d be used to it by now.

“I don’t like it when people call me that!” the Cyclops voice was slightly tremulous. He sounded close to tears. Kassandra wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“I didn’t!!! I –” the prisoner protested, gasping for breath.

“But you’re so fat – I mean big and strong – and you really do only have one eye.” Kassandra smirked, holding the obsidian eye up. That got the Cyclops’ attention

Releasing his captive, the Cyclops stepped towards her. “My eye! Give it to me!” he bellowed. “Give it to me and I won’t kill Markos for having you steal it.” Thrusting his hand out, “Give it to me!!!” he shouted.

Ooh, temper temper… well, she might as well have some fun and see how far she could push the Cyclops. “You want it?” Kassandra asked. Bending down, she grabbed a passing goat’s tail and pulled the animal towards her. Keeping her gaze locked onto the Cyclops, she stuffed the eye into the goat’s rear end. Slapping it away, she straightened. “Go get it.” Kassandra smiled brightly, gesturing at the bleating animal.

The Cyclops gave a scream of anger and lunged at her, his morning star held aloft. Kassandra easily dodged and brought her sword down hard on his back, drawing blood. Spinning away from the Cyclops’ retaliation blow as he roared in pain, she quickly made short work of the Cyclops’ men before striking hard and fast at the Cyclops again and again. In no time he lay dead at her feet and Kassandra felt a weight lift off her shoulders. Looks like she no longer had a debt to pay off. Making her way to the Cyclops’ half-drowned prisoner, she freed the man and escorted him out of the village, stopping every so often to take any _drachmae_ she found, it's not like the Cyclops would be needing it anymore. When they’d reached a safe distance, they stopped and the man turned to her. Thanking her for saving his life, he introduced himself as Barnabas, captain of the Adrestia. Captain… Kassandra’s eyes widened, perhaps she’d found her ship out of Kephallonia after all.

“Well, Barnabas. I am pleased to meet you. I’m Kassandra, _misthios_ by trade.”

Barnabas gave a delighted laugh. Kassandra watched amusedly as he all but called her a god for saving him in such a timely manner. She tried dismissing her actions as a coincidence but he didn’t seem to believe her.

“And you just happen to fight like Achilles while Zeus’ eagle flies around your head!” Barnabas countered, his eyes wide with excitement.

Kassandra let him be, she was more interested in his ship. “Perhaps the fates brought us together after all. I’m in need of a ship and a crew.”

Barnabas chuckled. “You saved my life! It would disgust the gods to not offer it in return.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“My ship, my crew or what's left it, and my services are yours!”

Kassandra shook her head, scarcely believing her luck. “You truly aren’t from around here.”

With a hearty laugh, Barnabas replied, “Gods, no! And I thank them for that. Come now and see the Adrestia.”

As they walked back to Sami, Barnabas told her about the men he'd lost from his crew during a skirmish with pirates. Why not recruit from Kephallonia, Kassandra suggested. There were plenty of young men and women in need of work. And, she added, they could probably be taught to sail quickly. Barnabas promised to take her suggestions into consideration, looking thoughtful. At Sami they parted, Kassandra went to her house to pack and Barnabas went to look for potential recruits. 

* * *

Having packed what meager belongings she possessed, Kassandra prepared to leave Kephallonia behind. As Barnabas was informing her that they were ready when she was, Kassandra heard a small voice shout.

“Wait!” It was Phoibe, a small blanket and her toy eagle clutched in her hand, as she ran over to where the Adrestia was docked. “Wait for me, Kassandra! I’m all packed and everything!” She cried, out of breath.

Raising an eyebrow, Kassandra looked down at the little girl. “You’re coming, are you?”

“If you’re going, I’m going,” Phoibe told her matter-of-factly.

Kneeling down, Kassandra looked at the child. “Kephallonia’s the only place you’ve ever known. You’d leave your home?”

“I would if it meant staying with you.” Phoibe sounded close to tears.

Kassandra sighed, trying to explain that it was too dangerous for a child to come along with her. Phoibe persisted, insisting that Kassandra needed company. Raising her eyes to the sky in a plea for guidance, she relented. Knowing Phoibe, the girl would find some way or another to follow her wherever she went. Just as she had done so since she was able to walk. Besides, Kassandra didn’t think it would be wise to leave a child with Markos, and Phoibe had no one else since her family had died. “Fine,” she said out loud. “You can come, but you have to promise me that you will be careful and listen to me.” Phoibe cheered and launched herself at Kassandra, skinny arms wrapped around her in a hug. “Where I'm going is no place for a child, so you have to keep yourself out of trouble and stay safe, ok.” Kassandra ruffled the girl’s hair as she stood up, Phoibe still clinging to her.

Giggling, Phoibe nodded. “I promise Kassandra. I’ll be good,” she whispered into Kassandra’s stomach, arms tight around her waist.

A loud shout of her name caught her attention. Markos, of course. Kassandra hoped he didn’t want to come too. Fortunately, she didn’t have to worry too much. Markos had come to say goodbye. Kassandra was touched, for all of Markos’ annoying schemes and cons, he had genuinely saved her and given her a new life. He had helped when no one else would and for that Kassandra owed him her gratitude. Returning his hug, she was genuine as she wished him well in the future. Phoibe hugged Markos goodbye before bounding onto the ship, excitedly dashing about on deck, examining every part of the ship in curious delight.

Barnabas turned to her. “Ready to set sail?”

Looking around the island that had been her home, Kassandra said her goodbyes in her heart. “Its time to leave.”

* * *

Aboard the ship, Kassandra stood at the helm. Barnabas next to her, asking which course to set. Upon hearing that she intended to go to Megaris, his smile fell away.

“Megaris! But we’ll be sailing into war.”

Kassandra told him about the contract for the general’s head. Someone called ‘The Wolf.’

Barnabas started. “The Wolf! Who wants Nikolaos of Sparta dead?”

“Nikolaos of Sparta?” Kassandra froze as she was engulfed by her worst nightmare.

 

_The moon was full in the sky, lightning streaking across the dark clouds. Thunder crashed overhead but it could not drown out the screams of a woman and the wailing of a babe.  The priest held the baby in his arms, speaking those terrible words for all to hear. “The Oracle has spoken! To prevent Sparta’s fall, the child must fall first.”_

_Kassandra’s mater was being held back by two guards visibly struggling to contain her. Myrrine was distraught, “You can’t let this happen! Please! He’ll do no harm - he’ll help us! He will lead us!” Behind them was her brother, King Pleistarchus, Kassandra’s uncle. Kassandra looked desperately at him, hoping, praying that he would put an end to all this. Please, she thought, please uncle, Alexios is your heir, don’t do this. But the King said nothing, did nothing._

_“Silence!” the priest bellowed, holding Alexios higher, the baby’s cries growing louder._

_“Sto--op! You can’t! Nooo! No, no.” Myrrine could barely speak through her tears._

_Kassandra struggled against the soldier holding her back. She looked at her pater but Nikolaos was not looking back. Why was no one saying anything or doing something? This was wrong. Kassandra struggled some more, trying to save her baby brother. The priest turned and began walking towards the edge of the cliff, Alexios held aloft in the air. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed. Blood rushing through her ears, Kassandra shoved her guard away, running to save Alexios. Tripping over a stone, she crashed into the priest, pushing him over the cliff, his screams echoing as he fell, Kassandra staring after him in horror. Baby Alexios flew from his arms through the air, landing hard on the ground behind her, crying even more loudly as a small pool of blood began to soak the dirt beneath his head._

_“No, oh my baby…” Myrrine gasped in horror._

_“Murderer! She has killed him!”_

_“Toss them both over!”_

_“Pay for her dishonor! For the life she has snuffed! She’s not Spartan, Nikolaos!”_

_Several angry voices clamored for her punishment. They wanted her thrown off the mountain along with Alexios._

_“Nikolaos! Stop! Nikolaos! No! Nikolaos! Nikolaos! Look at me! Look at me, Nikolaos! Don’t! Don’t listen!” Myrrine’s screams had become almost hoarse._

_Kassandra turned to face the crowd. Nikolaos was shoved before her and she latched onto him in a fierce hug. Pater would protect her, he was brave and strong, he would keep her safe. Nikolaos kneeled down, raising his hand tentatively to her cheek. Clenching his jaw, he stood suddenly, grabbing Kassandra by the arm and lifting her into the air._

_“Your blood is tainted! Rid yourself of this poison! For Sparta!” The priests shouted at him._

_“Pater?” Kassandra looked at her father fearfully, as he dangled her over the cliff. His eyes were hard._

_Meanwhile, Myrrine had fought off her restraints, diving to the ground and clutching Alexios in her arms. She pushed past, through the priests and soldiers that tried to take Alexios from her as she shakily stumbled towards the mountain path behind the altar. King Pleistarchus held his hand up to stop his guards as he tried to call out to his sister._

_“Myrrine! Wait!”_

_But Myrrine would not listen. She cradled her son’s bloody head, his shrieks deafening, as she fled down the mountain, not looking back._

_Kassandra called out to her mater, to her uncle, to anyone. But no one listened. No one tried to help her. Thunder shook the earth as lightning split the sky. Kassandra stared up at Nikolaos and screamed as he let go._

_“Pater!!!”_

 

Eyes blinking away her nightmare, Kassandra shivered. Despite the sun, she felt cold all over.

Barnabas watched her with concern, tactfully not mentioning her suddenly watery eyes.

“Get me to Megaris. Now,” Kassandra said roughly. Above them Ikaros screeched, circling the ship.

Barnabas didn’t get it. Why on earth would she want to go there, risking both their necks in the process? A moment later he understood.

Kassandra stared out to sea, her gaze hard. “The Wolf of Sparta is my father.”

  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we meet Brasidas much earlier – I love his character so expect to see him play a bigger role. I adore the Greek myths so I will definitely be referencing them in the story. I've already alluded to one scene from The Odyssey if you can spot it. 
> 
> p.s. - I rewrote this because the original chapter was written when I had the flu so it wasn't really coherent.


	2. look to the stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr if anyone wants to have a chat about ac odyssey or this story - @spaceangelpirate

Megaris | Spring 431 BCE

 

Megaris was a beautiful land, Brasidas thought to himself. Spring had turned Mt. Geraneia into a wash of color as flowers of all kinds bloomed upon the mountain's slopes. It was rather pleasant. From his perch on a ridge midway up the mountain, Brasidas could see the Gulf of Korinth stretching out for miles, a streak of blue the gods had painted on the world. In some parts, the late afternoon sun turned the water a brilliant gold. It reminded him of Kassandra’s eyes. They too were liquid gold, speckled with blue-green flecks that sparkled when she smiled. Kassandra… Brasidas found himself thinking of her again. Her eyes, her smile, her laugh, her lips… he shifted slightly, meeting Kassandra had been fate. When she’d leapt to his defense on Ithaka, Brasidas had felt the earth move and the stars realign themselves. Something deep inside him had whispered of gods and heroes and destiny. Time stopped and the world stilled as if it knew that something momentous had occurred, that the universe had changed suddenly. The moment had passed as swiftly as it came and he’d rushed to help her. And on from there… He hoped to see her again. He had wanted to go back to Kephallonia as soon as he’d left it, he had been prepared to return as soon as he’d completed his mission in Phokis. But it was not to be. The ship had brought him to Megaris instead, despite his request to stop in Pilgrim’s Landing first, to the war front where Sparta was preparing to take the region. A faint humming broke his trail of thoughts, he looked up and saw a bee buzzing around a flower, honeysuckle. Brasidas wondered absently if Kassandra liked honeysuckle if she liked flowers at all.

Below him was Fort Geraneia, Brasidas had been tasked with surveilling the movements of the Athenian Strategoi by the Wolf. He sighed, when he’d landed in Megaris, he’d been in the middle of requisitioning a horse – if he couldn’t get to Phokis by ship, he’d ride there himself – when the General had shown up and started giving him orders to spy on the Athenians. Nikolaos was only a couple of years older than Brasidas, but the man had been well rewarded for his service to Sparta and so was already a highly ranked general. Brasidas scowled when he remembered what service it was that won him his titles. He’d been younger then, a few years fresh from the _agoge,_ when it happened. All of Sparta knew the story, Leonidas’ grandson sentenced to death by the Oracle, his granddaughter thrown away in place, his daughter fleeing in the middle of the night like a ghost. Brasidas’ _mater_ had been a handmaiden to the former Queen Gorgo. She’d told Brasidas how the Queen had been stoic and dutiful during the entire ordeal. “A true Spartan,” his mother had said in admiration. Brasidas shook his head, the Wolf may be Sparta’s greatest general but that did not mean Brasidas had to like or respect him. To throw away your family like that… Brasidas would sooner burn down Sparta than do that. The voice in his head whispered _traitor traitor traitor…_ he wondered, was it treason to love your family, was it treason to see the flaws of your city, treason to acknowledge a wrong, to see the ugly truth in the glorious lie. Was it treason to want more from life than war and death, Brasidas didn’t know.

A commotion broke his maudlin thoughts and he looked into the fort below him. Athenian soldiers were rushing about, swords and voices screaming as they ran to the building where Brasidas knew they kept their supplies and treasure chest. A building that was on fire. Dropping from the ridge, he climbed down into the fort, sneaking through the tall grass to investigate. The central building was engulfed in flames, soldiers screaming from either the flames or the sword that was being run through them by the _misthios_ – it certainly wasn’t a Spartan who was reckless enough to go charging into an enemy stronghold swords blazing – who seemed to be responsible for all the trouble. With a sense that this was somewhat familiar, Brasidas joined the fray, spearing more flaming Athenians and putting them out of their misery. Mindful of the flames, he watched the mercenary dance about, their weapons a blur, as they cut down soldiers. Impressed, Brasidas stared at the unknown warrior, trying to discern their identity. With a start, he noticed a soldier creeping up behind the _misthios_ ready to stab them in the back. He threw his spear with a shout as the mercenary looked up and swerved to avoid the projectile. They, in turn, threw their sword at another soldier who was behind him. Soon enough all the soldiers in the fort lay dead and Brasidas kicked open the nearest door and escaped the burning building. Behind him, the mercenary followed and Brasidas turn to question them. Before he could speak, the stranger unwound the silvery white shroud – that somehow managed to remain clean – covering their head. Kassandra’s beaming face emerged, like the sun after a winter’s night, “Brasidas of Sparta! And you’re wearing clothes too!”

Brasidas gaped at her in disbelief. 

* * *

She'd found a ship to get her out of Kephallonia after saving the captain from the Cyclops, she explained to him as they sat around the fire. Not the monster, the man, she elaborated when Brasidas had looked confused. He'd brought her to a secluded bay behind the mountain, where he made camp every night instead of sneaking back to the army garrison. It also allowed him to avoid the Wolf and his irritating son.

“I've met him,” she said, an unreadable look on her face. “He's a bit young to be in the army.”

“Stentor excelled in the _agoge;_ when he completed _paídes,_  his father became his mentor.” Brasidas handed her a cup of wine. “The kings wanted Nikolaos to lead the war front and he only agreed to do it if his son could join him to complete his training. The kings agreed and so Stentor was allowed to join his father in Megaris.”

“His adopted son,” Kassandra said, a hint of bitterness tinged her voice. She stared into the wine cup in her hands.

Brasidas watched her, concern furrowing his brow, there was a story there. Something she wasn't telling him. Clearing his throat, he handed Kassandra a bowl of soup. He'd only had a few vegetables and leftover meat from the deer he'd killed that morning. Smiling, he sat down next to her, “It's good to see you, Kassandra.”

“You too,” she hummed, her mouth full. “Did you finish your mission in Phokis? This is really good by the way.” She lifted the bowl up and drained the remaining soup in one go, putting the empty bowl down next to her.

Brasidas watched her, amused. “I could not, I'm afraid. My skills were needed here in Megaris.”

“Mine too.” She told him how the Spartan captain hired her to look for the scouts. “I think another mercenary has been helping the Athenians. He killed the Spartan soldiers who were escorting a wagon of food. Which they had stolen from civilians!” She added fiercely, glaring at him.

Brasidas held up his hands. “I had nothing to do with that, but I will make sure those who did are punished accordingly.” He frowned, “We can't be taking food from starving civilians. Our fight is with Athens, not Megaris.” He set his own empty bowl aside.

Nodding, Kassandra relaxed. She stretched her legs out and laid back on her elbows, staring out at the water. Brasidas watched her. There was a full moon tonight and the bay was lit in a ghostly pale white. There was no one around them, save Kassandra's horse and a few other animals in the forest behind them. Just them and the water. Kassandra tilted her head to look at the stars, the elegant lines in her neck illuminated in the bright light, the ribbon around her neck a pale gold. In the moonlight, Kassandra’s skin looked almost blue. Her biceps bulged, silvery scars crossing them. Brasidas followed the curves and angles of her arms with his eyes, to her shoulders, her collarbone, her neck. He lingered on her jaw and her lips, before looking up to find Kassandra watching him. Her lips quirked in a smile as she raised an eyebrow. Brasidas blushed but leaned closer, propped up on his own arm, stopping just shy of Kassandra's mouth. Hesitating, his eyes flicked up to meet hers. Golden eyes twinkled in laughter and Brasidas found himself pulled down, Kassandra eagerly capturing his lips with her own. 

* * *

In the hours past dawn, after they had broken their fast with fruit and bread, Brasidas followed Kassandra to the city of Megara. Forgoing his _phoinikis_ and wearing nondescript armor, he looked nothing like a Spartan soldier at all. Kassandra was wearing her white shroud so her face would not be seen and she gripped her broken spear tightly in her hand. As they walked through the city, blending in with the crowd, Brasidas eyed her spear with interest. It looked familiar. “Your spear,” Kassandra looked at him, “where did you get it?” he asked.

She gazed at the spear in her hand, “It was my grandfather’s. He died before I was born so this is all I have to remember him by.”

“Why keep it broken?” Brasidas wished he could see her face to see what she was thinking.

Kassandra shrugged, “Sometimes, things that are broken don’t need to be fixed. Maybe they’re fine the way they are now instead of the way they were in the past. The best we can do is adapt to the change and keep moving forward.” Pulling on his hand, she suggested they might find something to discover the identity of the mercenary the Athenians hired in the port of Nisaia as she led them out the city. Crouched in the shadow of the walls of the port, Kassandra handed him a length of cloth.

“For your face,” she said, “We don’t want them to know what we look like.” Her own face was still covered. The shroud a blinding white under the morning sun. It looked similar to the cloth Kassandra had taken from the Palace of Odysseus. Moving closer to the wall, she turned and bent her knees, cupping her hands together low in front of her. “Here, I’ll give you a boost up.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“I can climb easily enough,” she laughed. “You, Spartan, have too much weight to carry.”

“Its muscle,” he grumbled, as he gripped her shoulders and placed his foot in her clasped hands. He was unprepared for when Kassandra lifted him up – fast and strong – and propelled him up and over the wall. Only his years of training as a soldier had prevented him from shrieking in fright as he was suddenly thrown into the air. He landed hard, face down in the long grass, behind a warehouse. Dazed, he mumbled to himself, “Gods, she’s even more stronger than she looks.” Groaning, he flipped over in time to watch Kassandra easily scale the wall and jump down, graceful as a cat.

“Are you alright Brasidas?” He heard the laughter in her voice. “That didn’t scare you too much, did it?”

“A Spartan is not scared of anything,” he sniffed, pushing himself up into a low crouch. “I was surprised that’s all, you’re quite strong for such a tiny thing like yourself.”

“And you are surprisingly light for such a big man,” she smirked at him. “The army not feeding you enough?”

Flapping his hand at her giggles, he surveyed the area, taking note of where the enemy soldiers were stationed. “We should check inside the warehouses for any records,” turning his head to look at her. “We might find something useful.”

“Agreed. Right, you go this way and I’ll go that way,” she said pointing. “If we run into any trouble, I’ll cause a distraction so you can escape.”

“Why do you have to cause the distraction?” He frowned underneath his shroud, not liking the thought of Kassandra putting herself in danger for him.

“Because I’m faster than you,” she retorted, before scurrying left towards the biggest warehouse in the port.

Brasidas huffed, staring at her retreating form. “I can be fast too you know.”

* * *

Rifling through various papers and scrolls in the warehouse close to the docks, Brasidas frowned to himself. There was nothing of note to be gleaned from them. No mention of mercenaries or Athenian battle plans. There was, however, a lot of information about people. He didn’t know who they were, there were no names, and from what Brasidas could decipher from the code, it looked like reports from spies. A lot of spies, judging by the number of reports he was looking at. Whoever was in charge of this, had eyes and ears in almost every port in Greece. This was worrying news. Shouts from outside caught his attention. The guards were yelling and running in one direction. Peeking out through the window, Brasidas saw them moving towards the left side of the of the docks. Looks like Kassandra had found herself in a spot of trouble. Right then, time to leave. Gathering his own notes from where he’d been writing down what he’d seen in the spies’ reports to read and decipher later, he made his way back to the port entrance. Seeing all the soldiers congregating around a warehouse, he slipped outside. Strolling calmly as he could, to avoid suspicion, he went back to the city. Hopefully, Kassandra would be able to make her escape safely.

Walking around the marketplace, Brasidas perused the products on sale. War had not been kind to Megaris’ economy and the ban Athens had placed on Megaris’ merchants had certainly not helped either. Idling near a table where a man was selling jewelry, Brasidas examined the items on display. He found himself wondering if Kassandra liked jewelry. She wore some, that much he knew, little gold studs in her ears. And hidden underneath her armor, she wore a silk ribbon threaded with gold, tight around her neck. She never took it off. Brasidas wondered why. A soft touch on his shoulder startled him, and he whipped around, hand on his _kopis_.

“It’s me.” Kassandra stood before him. “Easy there,” she said, laying her hand on his fingers that were still clutching his curved sword. “I have something to show you.” She led him out of the city and up the hill overlooking the lake. “Hyrkanos,” she said when they’d stopped, hidden amongst the cypress trees.

“Are you alri – what?” Brasidas was confused. Who’s this Hyrkanos?

“The mercenary who’s been helping the Athenians. Hyrkanos.” She pointed to her right, above her at the Temple of Athena. “He’s hiding in there. We take him out and that’s one less problem for us to deal with.”

“Oh right, so you found him. Good, that’s good…” he trailed off, uncertain if he should ask.

“I’m fine,” Kassandra reassured him, noticing his hesitant expression. “I saw one of the guards change his patrol and move towards the warehouse you were in, so I started a fire. And used the distraction to take them out, one at a time.”

“What’s it with you and fires?” he chuckled. “My thanks for the timely intervention – wait did you just say you killed them all?”

“Uh huh.” Kassandra nodded.

“All the soldiers?”

“Yes.”

“The entire port? By yourself?”

“Yes… Brasidas, what do you not understand?” Kassandra looked at him worriedly.

“No I understand, I just can't wrap my mind around it.” Shaking his head, “You cleared out an entire port by yourself. You did that with the fort yesterday too.” He laughed. “You could fight and win this war single-handedly if you wanted to.”

Kassandra let loose a breath, smiling. “Sparta could not pay me well enough to do so.”

“No, I don’t suppose they could.” He locked eyes with her and immediately burst into laughter, Kassandra joining him. Sighing, he laid back on the grassy hill. By herself, he thought smiling, impressive.

“So are we going or not?” Kassandra’s face appeared, impatient, in his line of vision.

“What? You want to kill this mercenary now? In broad daylight?” he asked, incredulous.

Kassandra shrugged. “I don't see why not, he's right here and won't be expecting it. Besides, it will send a message to the Athenians.”

“Oh?”

Kassandra stood up, a wicked smile on her face as she turned her head over her shoulder to look at him. “Don’t mess with Sparta.”

Brasidas felt his mouth go dry as he took in the sight of her, sunlight turning her brown skin to gold while she unsheathed her broken spear. 

* * *

While he assassinated the guards, Kassandra interrogated Hyrkanos. Any information he had would be beneficial to Sparta, especially if it was to do with the Athenian military in Megaris. The mercenary told them all he’d done for the Athenians. It was a pity he could not be allowed to live, he was rather cunning. Her questions answered, Kassandra broke the man's neck, clean and swift. Brasidas had asked her to kill the mercenary outside, he had no intention of offending Athena by committing murder in her temple. As they hid the bodies in the bushes for the crows to feed on, he told Kassandra he was going to report to the general. With any luck, he'd be able to finish his contribution to the war plan quickly and he could go back to the bay.

Kassandra agreed to meet him there. “Don't wait too long to go to battle. I want my reward as soon as possible.”

“And what reward would that be?” Brasidas quirked an eyebrow as he slid his arm around her waist, stepping closer to her.

Kassandra bit her lip, hesitating before answering. “ _Drachmae_ of course,” she told him glibly.

“Kassandra…”

She sighed. “Fine. I was promised an interview with the Wolf.”

“Whatever for?” Brasidas could not think of why she'd want to meet the man. She was too to have known him.

“I… he… he knew my _mater_.” Kassandra said, refusing to look him in the eye.

Releasing her waist, Brasidas took her hands in his own. She was not telling him the whole truth but he would not push. If Kassandra felt comfortable enough to come to him, he would be there for her. For now, he was content to wait. “I hope he can help you,” he said, leaning down and kissing her forehead. Turning around, he left for the Spartan camp, looking back at her as he did so. Kassandra watched him go, a strange expression on her face. 

* * *

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Brasidas resisted the urge to groan. Spartan caution in battle served them well enough, but sometimes risks had to be taken. “We have the advantage of surprise,” he said, waving at the map before him. Wooden discs, red and blue, lay scattered about, strategizing and planning was easy enough to do when the time called for it, but now was the time to act. “The Athenians’ have lost their supplies, funds, dozens of soldiers, they’ve even lost their mercenary and commander,” he continued. “We have their plans and know their weak points. Let’s fight them on the battlefield and push them back. With Megara under our control, we can solidify our hold in Megaris and push into Attika.” He saw the other captains nodding, heard the murmurs of assent rumbling in the war tent. “But we must act now!”

“Brasidas is right.” General Nikolaos spoke up, eyes on the map in front of him. “We have the advantage here, tomorrow we go to battle!” The men cheered, loud and eager.

Brasidas flinched, how many sons would Sparta lose tomorrow because of his plan, he wondered. He started when Nikolaos came over to him, clamping a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll see if your mercenary will be as much help tomorrow as he was today,” he patted Brasidas’ shoulder as he walked out of the tent, Stentor running up to him and eagerly asking questions.

Brasidas made his way back to the bay, resigned. Hopefully, he’d survive the battle tomorrow and he’d be free to go to Phokis. He had a mission to complete. He remembered how Archidamos had looked worried when he’d requested Brasidas’ presence after the war council that winter. The old king had dismissed his servants and guards, motioning instead for Brasidas to accompany him. As they walked through the quiet city, most people inside to avoid the cold, Archidamos had explained. In his reign as king, he’d noticed certain things were not right in Greece.

“It started when the Oracle sentenced the grandson of Leonidas to death. You remember, yes?” the king did not even wait for Brasidas’ nod before he continued. “At the time, I did not question the prophecy but now… And when Pleistarchus died so soon after that, so suddenly, I became wary. Some of the prophecies made by the Oracle in recent times have been rather suspicious and not all divine. They do not sound as though Apollo had given them, rather the work of men. This is just a theory right now, paranoid thoughts of an old man, and I have no proof of anything. But I cannot help but wonder if perhaps some dark force has had its hand in all this business. Especially this war.” Archidamos had turned to face him, the worry etched into his face concerning Brasidas. “I need you to go to Delphi. Investigate the sacred sanctuary in your usual way, you must not be noticed. I would rather you go not as a Spartan, pretend to be a pilgrim if you have to. But go and see what or if anything is amiss. Report to me what you have learned when you return. Only to me. Do you understand, no one must know your mission but me. I will decide what to tell Pausanias in the future – but he cannot know what I’ve asked you to do. Will you do this Brasidas? Will you do this for me?”

Brasidas had agreed. He would serve his king, be his eyes and ears. If it would save Sparta’s sons from war, he would do anything. He shivered in the breeze, thinking of how desperate Archidamos must have felt for him to ask such a thing. Brasidas wondered why the old king did not want Pausanias to know, perhaps to protect him – the house of Agiad seemed to be the target – or maybe Archidamos believed that Pausanias would not agree. After all, the Agiad king had been the biggest proponent of the war. Whatever the case, Brasidas would do his duty. He owed that much to Archidamos. The Eurypontid king had done much for Brasidas. He could still remember the night before he was to officially complete  _paidískoi_ at the _agoge_. Brasidas had been in a state of panic, as the best student in his year, he’d been the top choice for the  _krypteia_ to recruit. He didn’t want to be one of the slave-killers, stalkers of the night who hunted _helots_ to terrorized them and keep the peace. He’d been close to tears when Agis had found him. Agis who had been a friend to Brasidas, taking the younger boy under his wing. The heir apparent had taken one look at the fear on Brasidas’ face and had immediately known what was going on. He’d taken them both to his house, straight to his father. Agis had told King Archidamos that Brasidas was the best of his class. That he was a strong, fast, and skilled warrior with a keen intellect. “He would be wasted in the _krypteia_ ,” Agis had declared. The king had relented, agreeing to put in a word for Brasidas, to ensure he would go to the army. “For he would serve Sparta well if he had such a talent for war,” the old king had said. Brasidas remembered how proud he’d been then. To serve Sparta and the kings, to fight wars on their behalf was an honor he yearned for. Now Brasidas was weary, tired of war, tired of death. He wanted to be known for anything but making war. Regardless of his feelings, he had a mission to complete. He’d take a ship to Pilgrim’s Landing immediately after the battle. 

* * *

Kassandra was nowhere to be seen when he arrived at the bay. Worried, he looked around wildly, hoping some misfortune did not befall her on her way to the camp. A splash from behind him had him spinning around. Kassandra was in the middle of the bay – she must have gone for a swim. She came closer to the shore and stood up, water glistening silver in the moonlight, dripping down her bare body. Brasidas swallowed, mesmerized by the ethereal vision before him. Kassandra curled a finger, beckoning him to her, with a teasing smile. Brasidas took her hand and was lost.

They laid together on the beach, on top of his  _phoinikis_ to shield them from the sand, the fire warming them beneath the starry sky. Kassandra was sprawled upon him, head tucked into his neck, running her fingers through his chest hair. Brasidas held her gently, fingertips ghosting along her arms, up her back. Shifting so her mouth was on his neck when she spoke, Kassandra asked, “Do you have family, Brasidas?”

Brasidas hummed, her lips tickled his neck, and thought of how to answer her question. Did he have family? Could a Spartan have one? He thought of his father, dead before he could see his son, his life lost to the  _krypteia_ , to keeping slaves oppressed and scared. His mother, proud and so very Spartan. “You are the very image of your grandfather” she’d told Brasidas, “just like Dienekes,” giving him his shield on the day he joined the army. She was gone too, never quite the same after Amalthea was lost. Amalthea… the thought of his beloved older sister nearly brought tears to his eyes. How long has it been, five years? Ten? An eternity? Fiery Amalthea who had lost her will to live when her son had died. His nephew, so young and barely a man, dead before he could live. Amalthea had grieved, angry and distraught, weeping for her child. The last time Brasidas had seen her was five years ago, just before the _Hyakinthia_. He had gone to visit her and found her house empty. Amalthea had been leaving through the back door when he’d arrived. “My son, Brasidas. My only child. This city took him from me as they took his father, as they’ll take you. Leave before they do brother. Run, run far away from Sparta and her poisonous love.” She’d flung her arms around his neck in a tight hug. Pulling away, she stopped at the threshold and picked up her son’s  _hoplon_ , looking back at Brasidas. Her eyes were red, blazing with grief, with anger. “With it or upon it!” she spat, hurling the shield to the floor and fleeing through the doorway into the night. He never saw her again. Brasidas came back to the present, Kassandra’s eyes on him as she called out his name in concern. “No,” he choked out, voice thick with emotion. “I don’t have family.”

Kassandra’s golden eyes were full of understanding. “Me neither,” she said simply. She laid back down and tucked herself closer to him. Brasidas responded in kind, pulling her flush against his chest. Kissing her forehead, he sighed and closed his eyes, he needed to rest before the battle tomorrow.

“Brasidas…” Kassandra’s voice was innocent, suspiciously so, “are you married?”

Brasidas' eyes flew open. What! He pushed himself up on his elbows and stared at Kassandra, who was laughing at him. “Where did that come from?”

“Well I thought since you're, you know…” she floundered, waving her hands and gesturing at him.

“Since I'm…” he prompted.

Kassandra mumbled, her face all red. “Well you're handsome and a… a good soldier. A good catch for any woman.”

“What am I, a fish?” he chuckled. Her comment about him being a good soldier stung a little, he admitted to himself.

“And you’re Spartan, a good one, so I thought that –” she trailed off.

“That I had fulfilled my duty as a citizen of Sparta?”

“Yes and you’re older too,” she shrieked when he lunged at her, flipping her under him and holding her wrists loosely, pinning them above her head.

“I am not old,” he growled, playfully kissing her nose. He settled on his forearms, hovering over her. “No I’m not married, nor do I have any children. I’ve never felt the inclination, never found someone I liked enough to be with.” Brasidas had put off marriage for a long time, most of his peers had children who were already halfway through the  _agoge_. Brasidas did not know if he wanted to have a child during this time, not with the flames of war spreading across Greece. Sighing, he rolled onto his back, Kassandra following him and wrapping her arm around his waist.

“Would you get married? Or have children?” Chin propped on his chest, her eyes were soft as she gazed at him, a smile tugging at her scarred lips.

“Depends..”

“On?”

“Where the future takes me.” Brasidas did not know if he would settle down long enough in Sparta to do his duty. His mission in Phokis notwithstanding, there was the brewing war with Athens to consider. And Kassandra… no, best leave that for another time, when he was alone and could think clearly. “I had a nephew once,” he spoke, eyes misting, “Perdix.” An unfortunate namesake in hindsight. “He died.”

Kassandra kissed his cheek, “I’m sorry.” She set her head back down, hugging him tighter. There was nothing more to be said tonight. 

* * *

Rising with the sun, Brasidas washed in the nearby stream before fastening his armor on. Kassandra languished on the beach, his  _phoinikis_ draped artfully around her. She blinked sleepily, the pink light of dawn turning her skin a soft gold. Brasidas knelt down and kissed her deeply, “I’ll see you after the battle.” Running his hand over the red cloth covering her chest, he whispered in her ear, “Don’t forget to return this.” A broad smile on his face, Brasidas made his way to the base camp to eat with his shield brothers.

Nikolaos had requested his presence at his side during the battle. As much as Brasidas disliked the man, it would not do for Sparta’s greatest general to fall so early in the war. Besides, it was not like he could refuse. The battle was violent but surprisingly short. Brasidas attributed its brevity to Kassandra’s presence. She led the charge in the vanguard, dressed for battle. The plumed helmet she wore obscured her face, and with the standard mercenary breastplate androgynizing her body, it was no wonder the Spartan army referred to her as male. Brasidas did not dare correct them. Let them think her to be a man, it was safer that way and Kassandra would not have to deal with the prejudice women faced, even in Sparta. He watched her fight, the sight of her graceful movements on the battlefield stealing his breath. By the gods, this woman could fight. Where did she learn to fight like that, he wondered. He was not the only one watching her, Nikolaos observed her too. Kassandra moved with almost inhuman speed and strength. Every blow she struck upon the Athenians brought them to their knees. Circling her head was a golden eagle. Every time an enemy tried to attack from behind, the eagle swooped in to distract him long enough for Kassandra to turn and kill him. An eagle, Brasidas thought faintly, was this a sign from the gods? Did Zeus hold Kassandra in favor? Focused as he was on Kassandra’s magnificent display of prowess, Brasidas realized – a lot later than he ought to have – that the battle had ended. The remnants of the Athenian army fled through the forest of Tripodiskos, Spartan soldiers chasing them down and killing the cowards. They’d won.

* * *

 In the aftermath of the battle, Brasidas had lost track of Kassandra. He’d been waylaid by the captains who requested his assistance with the preparations to take control of Megara. He’d helped them as much could, there was more to be done but he had a ship to catch. First, he needed to find Kassandra, he didn’t know when or if he’d see her again and he wanted to say goodbye properly. Plus, she still had his cloak. Questioning one of the captains, he looked up at the cliff over Battlefield Cave. He’d been informed that the general had wished to speak with the  _misthios_ who’d aided them. Seems like Kassandra got her reward after all. He made his way towards the cliff, hoping to catch her on her way down when he saw Stentor sneaking towards the path up the cliff, a scowl on his face. Hmm… looks like someone was not happy to be left behind because the general wanted to speak with the heroic mercenary alone. Shaking his head, Brasidas passed the boy – who was hiding in the bushes, muttering angrily to himself, and continue to walk up the winding path. As he got closer to the top, he found himself thinking about Kassandra and what she could be talking to Nikolaos about. She had said he knew her mother, maybe she wanted information about her. Or maybe about her… her… her father… he stopped in his tracks, mind spinning as everything fell into place.

Her broken spear and her mother and her interview with Nikolaos, her father… who threw her from Mt. Taygetos. Brasidas broke into a sprint. He had to get to Kassandra now. To stop her, to help her, he didn’t know which, he just had to reach her. Panting slightly, he stood in the shelter of the pine trees at the crown of the cliff, hidden from sight.   

“– you fucking threw me to my death!” In front of him, Kassandra was angrily shouting at Nikolaos.

The Wolf didn’t look like Sparta’s greatest general at the moment, if anything he looked like a lost old man, trying to come up with an excuse for his failings.

“You were my father” Kassandra’s voice broke. “You were supposed to protect me!”

Nikolaos shouted back. “You were reckless! You forced my hand!”

“I was protecting my brother because you wouldn’t!” Brasidas could hear the tears in her voice. He hesitated, hand on his sword, wondering if he should intervene before things got out of hand.

“Enough!” Nikolaos roared. “I can’t change the past, Kassandra… I will live and die a Spartan.”

Voice deadly soft, Kassandra finally revealed her hand. “There’s a large reward for the mercenary that collects the Wolf’s head.”

Brasidas inhaled sharply, no Kassandra. Don’t do it. Not for Nikolaos, his life is worthless. Spare him for yourself. His death would take a toll on your soul. The gods do not look kindly upon patricide. As for Nikolaos, he seemed to have no reaction other than to ask if that’s why she here. But Brasidas could see the fear in his eyes. The fear that his daughter would show him the same mercy he bestowed upon her on Mt. Taygetos over a decade ago.

Kassandra grabbed her father by the straps of his armor and held him over the cliff edge, demanding answers. Breathing heavily, she screamed in anger and hurled Nikolaos to the ground behind her. “Though you deserve death, there is no honor in vengeance.” Turning to face Nikolaos, “You must face the ghosts of your past, _pater_. And that is a fate worse than death.”

Kneeling on the ground before his daughter, Nikolaos whispered. “I have failed in my duty. I failed to protect you… to protect both of you.” He raised his head, “I loved you as if you were truly my own. But you were never mine.”

Eyes widening, Kassandra asked, “What do you mean?”

Standing up, Nikolaos replied. “That is a question you should ask your mother.” He turned to leave.

“Wait –” Kassandra grabbed his shoulder.

“Find your mother. Wherever Myrrine is, she knows far more than I do.” He raised his hand to push Kassandra’s hand off his shoulder. Before he could, a small blur barreled into him.

It was a little girl. She kicked and pummeled Nikolaos with tiny fists, screaming “No! I won’t let you hurt her!”

“Phoibe!” Kassandra’s shout was full of fear. “Phoibe get away from him!” Pulling the child, she scooped up the now sobbing girl into her arms, cradling her close.

Nikolaos looked startled. Kassandra had sounded so scared, looked so terrified when she called out to the girl. Why? He would not have hurt the child, surely she knew that. He froze, no, of course, she’d fear his reaction. His daughter was scared at the thought of him harming an innocent child. With dawning horror, he realized she was right to. Oh gods, what have I done? He sank to his knees. I threw away my child. I nearly killed her. With a moan that turned into a sob, he covered his face with his hands. Gods save me, what have I done?

Kassandra consoled Phoibe as she picked up the sword and helmet Nikolaos had dropped. Stepping past him, she turned back. “Where will you go?”

Still kneeling, Nikolaos pulled his hands away from his face and gazed at them, as if in prayer. “To find my honor.” Turning to face her – tears streaming down his cheeks – he warned, “Beware the snakes in the grass, Kassandra.”

Kassandra continued, down the cliff, the child still in her arms. “I thought I told you to stay on the ship.”

“I wanted to see you,” the girl hiccoughed before sobs wracked her body once more.

Kassandra sighed. Brasidas hung back, unsure if he should go to her. Especially after that trying conversation, she’d just experienced. Before he could make up his mind, he was interrupted when someone else flew past him, almost crashing into Nikolaos. This time it was Stentor, who clutched at his father's shoulders. “ _Pater_! Are you alright? The _misthios_ didn’t hurt you?”

“No Stentor, she didn’t.” Nikolaos pushed himself to his feet, walking towards the cliff path.

“She?”

“Another time, son. I thought I told you to stay with the soldiers.” Nikolaos rubbed his face, no doubt to remove proof of his weakness, Brasidas thought bitterly.

“I wanted to see if you were okay.” Stentor protested. “Where are you going?” he asked when he noticed Nikolaos was going towards the camp.

Sighing, Nikolaos grimaced. “I need to leave for a bit, Stentor. I have… I have something that I need to do.”

“Then I’m coming with you!” Stentor demanded. “I’m not leaving you. My place is with you, by your side.”

“Stentor…”

“NO!”

“Very well, you may come along.” Together they walked down the cliff.

Brasidas emerged from the trees, scowling at the Wolf’s retreating back. Coward, he thought spitefully. First, you abandon your daughter and then you do the same to the men under your command. You were a good Spartan, General; but you are a poor man. As if hearing his thoughts, Nikolaos turned to look back at the cliff top, stiffening when he caught sight of Brasidas staring at him. Brasidas felt his lip curl in disgust as he looked at the man who had thrown Kassandra away. She’s worth a hundred of you, he thought fiercely. He quickly schooled his face into a neutral expression, but he was too late. Nikolaos had seen the contempt, the utter loathing Brasidas felt for him. He looked away, unable to bear the weight of Brasidas’ gaze. Yes look away General, that is what you’ve always done isn’t it, Brasidas thought resentfully.

You have been judged by the gods, Nikolaos of Sparta. You have been tried, measured and found wanting.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties with history, I just really wanted Stentor to be younger than Kassandra and be at Megaris. FYI, Stentor is about 17 right now. Sorry for the long wait in posting this chapter, I restarted the game (got myself to like level 50 before going to Megaris and playing) so that I could write as I play.
> 
> Comments are always welcome :)


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